


Come here, it's the end of the world

by LeSirene



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, End of the World, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, LadyNoir - Freeform, One Shot, Post Reveal, a little soft but only a little, a very sad very beautiful song inspired me, since it feels like the end of the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeSirene/pseuds/LeSirene
Summary: Paris’ oldest heroes are the only ones still standing against this unmeasurable enemy. Only them facing the end of the world. But they are so tired and hopeless. And everything hurts like hell.Inspired by the song "If the World Was Ending", by JP Saxe and Julia Michaels.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Kudos: 44





	Come here, it's the end of the world

**Author's Note:**

> Since it sometimes feels like it's the end of the world, I decided to do something with all of this emotions. Guess a trigger warning is in place, given our current circumstances.
> 
> But if you feel like getting depressed (feel ya), here is the very sad, very beautiful song that inspired this one shot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jO2wSpAoxA

A flash of white lighting broke through the night sky. And then another. And another. And another. On the streets it seemed like it was noon instead of midnight, every corner illuminated by that cruel white light.

Only two silhouettes remained on the streets, running as if the lives of everyone in Paris weighted on their shoulders. One was dressed in red and the other was in black. Earlier, there had also been a silhouette in orange, one in yellow and another in green, but that seemed like ages ago now. Paris’ oldest heroes where the only ones still standing against this unmeasurable enemy. Only them facing the end of the world.

If someone peeked out of their hiding spot, they would easily notice that something was off between their beloved heroes. They ran at the same speed, they jumped and dodged in sync, but it had been a while since they exchanged their last worlds, they wouldn’t even look at each other. It could be excused on the hours they had been running around, trying to prevent the inevitable, but Ladybug knew better.

It wasn’t the same. It couldn’t be —it would never be—, after what happened. Patrolling, laughing, fighting, everything they shared was now coated by a thick layer of doubt, disturbed by trembling hands and unsure voices. She still trusted him with her life, but she couldn’t talk to him the way she used to, and she couldn’t crash into his arms after a long day. He wouldn’t let her. She wouldn’t let herself.

Ladybug knew she should’ve managed the situation in a better way, that she shouldn’t have been so tough on him, knowing how sensitive Chat Noir was. The situation had overwhelmed her, it had been too much, too much for her, too much for their relationship. 

She only had one rule when it came to them, only one thing she had asked for him: to keep their identities a secret. For the sake of everyone they knew, for the sake of their city. For five years, they kept their masks on place. But one night he decided he wouldn’t respect her wishes anymore. He had held her tight until their transformations dropped, and he had looked at her in so much awe, and she had stared at him through tears and a broken heart.

One rule. Only _one_ rule.

By breaking that promise, he had also broken her. And by overreacting, by screaming and cursing, she had also broken him. So now they were running to their deaths, to the end of the world as they knew it, and they couldn’t even look at each other.

The biggest lightning of the night split the sky in two, static ran through the cold air, a massive thunder rattled every window on that street and shook the ground. Chat Noir stopped running. He wasn’t out of breath, it was almost impossible for them to get tired at this point, but he stopped and turned to her. It had been raining for the last hour or so, his hair was stuck to his skull and it made his eyes look even bigger, brighter under the white light.

“Here,” he said, pointing to an alley, and ran towards the little darkness that still remained.

The alley was narrow, full litter and debris. She couldn’t see the end of it.

“It’s so dark,” she mumbled as they went deeper into it, her eyes unaccustomed to so little light.

“This way,” Chat Noir’s voice said from somewhere ahead. “Careful with that pipe.”

“What pipe?” she asked, as she walked head first into the pipes that stuck from a building’s side.

Something like laughter traveled through the alley. Ladybug felt her heart shrink inside her chest; it was the first time in months that she heard Chat Noir’s laughter. It used to be more scandalous, loud and piercing and so, so contagious. She supposed that was what she got after treating him so badly: only _something like laughter_ , never again his shoulders trembling as he giggled his way through life.

She jumped when something laid on her own shoulders. A pair of heavy, gentle hands led her towards an open archway on the side of the building, and then through what seemed like a long hallway. Chat Noir left her in a cold, humid room that smelled like it had been closed for months or even years, and a door closed somewhere behind her. One second later, the room was illuminated by a warm orange light.

Her eyes needed a moment to adjust to the new light. The room was full of boxes and some machines: an elevator system, a boiler, a water thank; it wasn’t more than a machine and storage room, somewhere under an apartment building. She turned to her partner to ask what were they doing down there when their city needed them more than ever, but she froze at the sight of him.

Ladybug couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her lips. Chat Noir looked like he had been through hell and back; he was holding one arm to his chest as if it was injured, his suit had small cuts all over the arms and the chest, one side of his face was turning purple and his cheekbone was bleeding. He also had a small cut on his mouth, his lips stained with long ago dried blood. He couldn’t stand straight, the weight of his body rested in one of his legs and on the last piece left of his staff.

Her hands started to tremble. She wanted to cup his cheeks, to cure his wounds, to hug him until he was healed, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move from her spot in the middle of the room.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said, breaking the silence. It was so quiet there, so far away from the thunder. “You look like shit, too.”

Yes, she already knew that.

“I’m fine,” she lied. Her body hurt like she had been dragged from one neighbourhood to the other. Her side was sore from falling and falling and falling on it, and she was pretty sure she had broken at least four ribs and one finger. She couldn’t breath nor stand properly and she couldn’t feel some of her toes. But that wasn’t important. She wasn’t important. Chat Noir was bleeding right in front of her, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

“No, you are not, “ said. “I’m most certainly not fine, neither.”

She suppressed the tears, swallowed hard, tried to put on a brave face. They didn’t have time so stay and wallow on their pain; Paris was being destroyed out there, and as much as she liked that warm light and that glorious silence, they couldn’t stay for long.

“What are we doing here, Chat?” she finally managed to ask.

He stared at her for a long moment, then started to walk to the other side of the elevator system. It was painful to see him walk now, away from the adrenaline, away from the eyes of the enemy. He laid all of his weight on his broken staff and took small, unsure steps, like an old man with his cane.

She followed him to the other side of the room, taking small steps too. Maybe he had an extra suit hidden in there? Some bandages? A secret weapon? It turned out he had an old sofa and two water bottles.

“I found this place some months ago,” he told her, sitting on the sofa in one stiff, painful movement. “I use it to rest sometimes.”

“You never told me about it,” she commented, taking the place next to him.

He scooped to the side so their legs wouldn’t touch.

“We weren’t… on speaking terms.”

“Oh.”

He handed her a water bottle and opened his own. They drank in silence.

Ladybug let herself have this moment, just one moment to rest and recharge. Her body thanked her for the soft sofa and the cold water, and the worried voices in her head lowered their volume until she almost couldn’t hear them anymore. Almost, that is.

She finished her bottle in one big gulp and then tried to stand, but Chat Noir’s hand stopped her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, looking at his hand on her arm.

“Wait.” His voice sounded more hoarse than before. “Sit.” He gestured to the sofa, and she sat again.

Her body purred slightly, her back rested against the back of the sofa and she feared she might never could stand again. She wondered what would stop working first: her left leg or the right one.

The silence devoured them once again, but she could tell Chat Noir was trying to say something to her. He couldn’t stop moving, even when that brought him more pain. She sat still, her eyes to the front, fixed on a sticker at the side of the elevator system. She read, again and again, _caution, this unity must only be handled by experts_ , _caution, this unity must only be handled by experts_ , _caution, this unity must only be handled by experts_ , until words lost all meaning.

Something slid down her arm, and she feared it would be a mouse —a mouse! At this point in existence, she worried a mouse might have touched her!—, but she turned to Chat Noir and discovered it was his hand, caressing her in long strokes. Her body stiffened. It had been so long since the last time he touched her like that.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you,” he said. His voice seemed to come from far, far away. “I’m so sorry, my Lady.”

“Adrien—“ her voice broke at his name, and he looked at her with wide eyes. “Don’t say that. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did.”

He sat straight and took her hand, the one closer to him, and she could’ve cried just from that. He was _touching her_ again.

“But it _is_ my fault!” he insisted. “If I never did that, then we wouldn’t have waisted so much time bickering and all of this” he gestured to the room, “would’ve never happened.”

“We don’t know what would’ve happened, Chat.”

“But we might’ve had a chance to stop him!” His voice echoed through her body, and she took his free hand in her’s.

“We still do.”

Her eyes found his, and there she saw what she thought she’d never see: a hopeless Chat Noir. He had always been the light to her darkness, the one to pull her out of her abyss when she was down, the one that laughed in the face of danger while she clenched her fists in worry. All of his perpetual happiness had been erased from his face and from his eyes, and all that was left was a scared, broken boy.

“We can’t win this one, Marinette.”

“We may, if we go out there, if we just keep fighting.” She pointed towards the exit, to the crumbling city that still depended on them. ”We can’t give up on them!”

“We won’t,” Chat Noir reassured her, giving her hands a squeeze. She tried not no flinch at the shock of pain that escalated from her hands to her arms, but she must’ve exposed herself, because her partner released her hands. “This is not giving up,” he continued, “this is resting a little, being together before we…” His words floated on the air. They wouldn’t say it, but both of them knew how that night was going to end: they were going to give more than what they had for their city, they would go down fighting for their people, together. Chat Noir shook his head. “Claws out.”

The orange light was replaced by a spark of green and black, and then it went back to orange once again. Where Chat Noir had been, now remained a young man dressed in jeans and a white button up. Adrien’s shirt started to turn a deep shade of red in some places, showing that his bounds were worst than she had thought. He didn’t seem to mind that. He was looking at her, hadn’t sopped in a while, and opened his arms in welcome.

“Come here.”

“What are you doing?”

“Come here, my Lady, “ he insisted, giving her a tiny smile. “Are you going to reject me? It’s the end of the world.”

Her transformation dropped as she crashed into his arms, tears running freely down her maskless face. They were no longer Ladybug and Chat Noir, Paris’ finest heroes, the only thing standing between their people and annihilation. Now they were Marinette and Adrien, two kids that had been pushed to grow up so much, so fast, who had been through hell and back together, two broken parts of a hole.

She found shelter on his chest and he found comfort on her warmth. It was funny to see how fast all of their problems evaporated from one moment to the other. Their fight didn’t mattered anymore, their rights and wrongs and all of their maybes where pushed to the side as he pressed his lips to her brow and whispered her his promise, the one he had always kept, the one he would keep even in death:

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

She sank deeper into his arms, into his chest, into the warmth of his body.

“I love you, too,” she said.

Something rattled the room. Marinette thought it was another thunder, maybe the biggest of the night, but then she realised it was Adrien. He was laughing the way he used to, his sore body shaking as his beautiful laugh filled the cold air.

“I know you do,” he said, cupping her cheeks with his hands. She understood why he had taken his suit off; feeling his skin on hers worked like magic: suddenly the word hurt less against her skin, and she knew it would be like that for as long as he kept holding her. “Though it took you long enough to say it.”

“Only took an apocalypse”, she laughed until her lungs failed her and then she started crying. “I’m so sorry, Adrien.”

“It’s okay,” he said as he rubbed her back, still breathing her hair, her scent, as if he was trying to memorise it. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Debris fell from the roof and scattered around them, reminding them of what still laid out there. Marinette stood and helped Adrien do the same, since he didn’t have his staff now, she also helped him walk to the door. Hand in hand, they transformed back, and also hand in hand they left the machine room. The white light hit them full on the face, like a lighthouse calling them to their destiny. They exchanged a look that held the words they didn’t need to say, the ones that they didn’t have time to share and the ones that they already knew.

As they stepped into the white light, Chat Noir gave Ladybug’s hand one last squeeze, and she squeezed him’s back. Then, they started to run again, straight into the end of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> First of all: thank you for staying this far!!
> 
> I'm thinking about making a little "end of the world series", in which I could write different versions of a painful farewell, bc we all love some angst and I need to do something with this vibes the world is giving me right now. Please tell me in the comments if you'd like that, and if you have any ideas you'd like to suggest.
> 
> All that said, I hope you all are doing fine! This is a hard time for all of us but we're together on this. Please take care of each other and remember to keep your spirits up (she says, as she posts a depressing fic about the end of the world).
> 
> Love! The Siren Xx


End file.
